


Thump, Thump

by littlefrog1025



Series: "Dear future self..." [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Fingering, Arguing, Car Sex, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski are Soulmates, Future Fic, Kissing, M/M, Makeup, POV Stiles, Scent Marking, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 17:55:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7943815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlefrog1025/pseuds/littlefrog1025
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That awkward moment when your ex brings a date to your father's wedding...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thump, Thump

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the loooooong wait for the 3rd part. The wedding took over my life, and afterward I needed a good break. But I'M BACK (!!!), and ready to get back to fic writing! Yay!

* * *

“I can not believe you did this. I never knew you were this goddamn thoughtless, Derek!”

“We’re not together anymore, Stiles. I can date whoever I want.”

“Obviously! But did you really need to make that loud and clear at my father’s wedding,” Stiles shouts, gesturing madly to the [reception hall](http://www.mybanquethall.com/images/front%20night-u571.png) they’re currently 20 feet away from.

It’s freezing out. The late fall air crisp and clear at night as a cold wind breezes gently around the grounds. Warm breath burst into white puffs of air with every angry, exhausted exhale from Stiles’ mouth as he paces, unable to stand still. Too fired up and hurt. He can hardly feel the bitter season around him.

“You owe me an apology,” he grits through his teeth, finger digging right into the center of Derek’s chest.

“Excuse me,” Derek says, looking nothing short of affronted.

“You heard me, Derek. You’re insensitive and tactless,” Stiles says, trying to hold on to his anger, fighting the sadness threatening to bubble up into his voice. He doesn’t want to be that exposed. Not in the parking lot of the [Blue Lake Golf Course](http://foxchapelgolfclub.org/) in a rental [tux](http://www.brooksbrothers.com/Grey-Suit-Jacket/MK00212_____MDGY_40___SH__,default,pd.html?cmp=ppc_us_GG_pla_AllProducts&gclid=Cj0KEQjwxqS-BRDRgPLp0q2t0IUBEiQAgfMXRK-u9CmGyy_hBSV7xCMNk_XZPaw03wrAJWt7sySw12YaAtNV8P8HAQ).

“You want to talk about insensitive and tactless? How about you apologize to me? How about you apologize to me for every time I had to hear about, see you with, or smell on you all your nightly conquest for the past year? How about you tell me how sorry you are for slutting around Beacon Hills, in my face, just weeks after we broke up? Then, maybe, I’ll consider apologizing to you.”

“We’re not talking about me right now—”

“Of course we aren’t! Because that would mean you’d have to act like an adult, Stiles! You’d have to own up to your mistakes and admit you were wrong, like a big boy, instead of focusing on me and blaming me for your own faults,” Derek snaps.

“We didn’t break up because I could own my mistakes! We broke up because you’re an overbearing, possessive ass who treats me like a child–”

“I wonder why that is!”

“I am not immature, Derek!”

“Then what do you call this conversation?!”

 _“Me not wanting this to be over,”_ he blurts out.

He turns his back to Derek, not wanting him to see the tears spilling down his face.  
He stifles a sob behind his chilly hand.

It’s quiet. Derek doesn’t say a word.

Truth be told, Stiles has no idea if the werewolf left or not…

A soft shuffle of shoes on gravel tell him Derek’s still there.

He wipes his face with his jacket sleeve, and swallows hard, his misery burning the back of his throat. “I don’t want us to be over, Derek. I never wanted that.” He turns around, facing his ex. “I didn’t want it a year ago, and I don’t want it now. I can’t believe we let that stupid fight tear us apart like this.”

Stiles steps closer, looking Derek right in the eyes. Green/hazel eyes he’s missed so much… “You have no idea how much I think about it, and how much I wish I could go back and change everything we said to each other that night. It was dumb, Derek. It was so dumb and I miss you. And I thought you missed me, too. I thought we were…fixing us. Getting back to being friends and something more, but you brought a date. You brought a fucking date to my father’s wedding…”

A stray tears rolls down his cheek, tucking under his chin. He turns his head, no longer able to withstand the intense stare boring into him.

He glances a brief moment through the 20’ windows of the hall to catch Scott dancing with Melissa, her smile wide and happy as she holds the train of her wedding gown, and Scott dips her backwards. His father twirls Lydia sweetly on the dance floor beside them.

“Braeden is just a girl, Stiles.” Stiles turns his attention back to Derek. “She’s… She’s just a date. We’re not…a thing. I only brought her because I was confused about what was going on between us. I thought you just wanted to be friends. I thought we were over. For good,” Derek confesses, his voice low but soft. Vulnerable.

Stiles can’t help the wryly scoff that flies out his mouth. “As if I could _ever_ be over you, Derek Hale.”

It happens so fast he can’t catch his breath in time. Derek’s yanking him to his chest pressing their lips together, hard and hungry.

Stiles grasps at his shoulders, trying to will their bodies closer, giving back just as desperate as Derek.

Stiles moans into his mouth, parting his lips slightly. Derek shoves his tongue inside, tasting nearly every part of his mouth. It’s clumsy and eager and how it’s supposed to be; they’ve missed each other, pining in separate corners of town for over a year, too afraid to admit wrongdoings in order to be together again.

Derek breaks their kiss. He grabs Stiles hand, dragging him wordlessly further down the gravel lane to the camaro. He wretches open the backdoor and pushes Stiles inside.

Stiles doesn’t miss a beat: he immediately starts unbuckling his pants as Derek climbs in after him, shutting the door and hovering over him between his legs. Derek yanks off his shoes and Stiles kicks his pants off his sock-covered feet.

Derek claws his boxers off. Shreds of a cotton Batman symbol float to the floor.

He sticks two clawless fingers into his mouth, wetting them. Red eyes piercing into Stiles’ own honey-brown ones.

“Jesus Christ… I almost forgot how hot that is,” Stiles pants about Derek’s Alpha eyes.

Derek’s sloppy fingers tease Stiles’ fluttering pucker.

He shoves off Derek’s [dinner jacket](https://blacklapel.com/shop/suits/persian-blue-herringbone-custom-suit) and rips open his dress shirt. Buttons fly across the backseat! He’s not wearing an undershirt. Stiles’ hands are everywhere, touching Derek from his neck to his belly button, needing to get his hands on every slip of skin he can.

Derek breaches his hole with his index finger, shoving all the way in to the second knuckle. Stiles moans loudly, digging nails into Derek’s torso.

Derek’s clawed hand pulls Stiles’ hair at the back of his head, forcefully tilting his head upward. Derek licks into Stiles’ mouth, the barest of fangs nipping at his bottom lip as he works his finger in and out of the human.

“Derek…”

“You think about me? Every time someone else touched you? You think about how much better it feels when I do it?”

He did. Every single time. He kept trying to lose himself in other people, but all he found was how much he missed Derek. How Derek knew exactly how to touch him, make him squirm, shake and fall apart. He kept trying to forget, but all sleeping around did was make him remember.

“Yes,” he answers honestly. Derek eases his middle finger inside and Stiles has to think about centipedes and rats to keep from coming quicker than he’d like.

Derek tears open Stiles’ collar and drags his fangs slowly down Stiles’ presented neck as he presses two fingers on Stiles’ prostate. Stiles cries out, gripping hard to the door handle.

“You smell,” Derek sneers against his pulsepoint.

He knows what the wolf means. He reeks like everything but him. Them.

He was so angry when they broke up; wandering through the jungle like bait for any wolf there, but not a single one went beyond smiling at him, smelling the Alpha embedded into his skin.

It hadn’t been but only 2 months ago that Stiles knew Derek’s scent had managed to waft from under his bones, when a beta wolf from a neighboring pack flirted with him at a coffeeshop just outside town. He asked Stiles to come back to his place to listen to records after a lengthy debate between them about The Ramones versus The Clash.

Stiles declined the werewolf’s presumptuous invitation.

Derek always had a way of finding out when he slept with someone, lobbing bitter words of sarcasm and passive-aggressive remarks at him when they saw each other. So, having the Alpha discover he had slept with another werewolf from Satomi’s pack may have been something he viciously fantasized about, but knew better than to make a reality.

“Fix it, Derek. Please. Scent me. Make me smell like you. Like I belong to you.”

Derek growls in his ear. He pulls his fingers from Stiles and hurriedly undoes his pants. Stiles helps, pushing his boxer briefs down with his feet.

Derek lines his cock against Stiles’ waiting entrance and slams into him.

“Derek! Fuck!” Stiles grabs handfuls of Derek’s ass, egging him on.

The backseat is small, but Derek makes due, snapping his hips wildly, plunging deep and hard into Stiles, who’s tugging at his jet black hair and whimpering noisily.

His legs are spread, one against the back of the headrest of the passenger seat, and the other has the tips of his toes on the back window, the chill night on the glass cools his covered foot. It’s been far too long since he’s been with Derek like this.

The werewolf snarls cutoff words at the shell of his ear: “Mine… Only mine… Feel so good… No one can have you… Mate.”

“Only yours, Derek. Only yours, Alpha,” Stiles shouts as he comes, jerking his cock and knocking his head against the door. Cum splatters in long ropes on his belly; his shirt having rucked up during their tryst.

He pants, trying to recover his breath. He hasn’t come that hard, that quick, since the break up.

“Look at me.”

Stiles opens his eyes, chest still heaving.

They stare intently at one another. Derek’s red eyes open and unblinking as he chases his own orgasm.

“Do it. I want you to. I need you to,” Stiles tells him, licking his lips, hungry for it.

Derek cants his hips faster, driving into him. Stiles braces a hand against the door, keeping his head from smacking into it.

“I missed you. So much,” Stiles confesses.

“I missed you, too.”

“Prove it,” Stiles teases, with a smirk.

Derek grabs Stiles’ hips, pushing in slower, deeper…

“Oh, my God, sourwolf…” Stiles’ cock dribbles into the cooling puddle already on his stomach.

“I love you, Stiles.”

He wasn’t expecting that, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to hear it.

“I love you, too.”

Derek pulls out. Stiles takes his dick in his hand, stripping it impatiently.

Derek comes with growl, fangs on display as thick ribbons of cum gush onto Stiles’ exposed belly.

Derek rubs it into Stiles’ skin, all the way up to his neck. Especially at his neck.

_“Are you fucking kidding me?!”_

A firm smack at the window behind Derek draws their attention. Derek’s date. Braeden.

_Oh, shit._

“Oh, shit,” Derek whispers. He fumbles with his pants, pushing out the door. Stiles sits up, righting his clothes.

Derek and Braeden’s voices are muffled, but he’s got eyes and he can read body language. She’s pissed, yelling at him and pointing at Stiles in the car. Derek’s at least repentant, pleading.

But she could care less, as evident by her slapping him across the face!

Derek takes her hit, stumbling back into the car.

As far as Stiles knows, she’s human. Her smack shouldn’t have been that powerful a blow to a werewolf…

_Note to self: ask Derek if his date is human. Or something else._

She shakes her head and scoffs at Stiles through the window before storming back to the reception hall. Probably to ask Deaton for a ride home. He seemed vaguely familiar with her when she and Derek arrived.

_Note to self: ask Deaton instead._

Derek, looking ever so defeated, opens the back door.

“She going back for a gun or something?”

“No. No, I don’t think so… Should I offer her a ride home?”

“I’m sort of new to the whole screwing-around-behind-someone’s-back thing. But I doubt it’s a good idea.”

“…Do you need a ride home,” Derek asks.

The wedding is nearly over. Stiles had just finished his best man speech and Melissa threw the bouquet before he stalked over to Derek’s table and demanded they speak. Outside and away from prying eyes.

“Does a ride home include us doing what we just did? But in a bed? At the loft?”

Kira has his keys to their apartment, and the last thing he wants to do is go back in there at the moment. Plus, Stiles remembers them screwing around in his twin sized bed when he was in high school. Wasn’t the most comfortable way to have sex. Therefore, sneaking off to his dad’s house wasn’t an attractive option either.

“It could,” Derek answers.

Stiles climbs out of the car. He closes the door. “Then yeah, I need a ride home.”

“Don’t you want to say ‘goodnight’ to your dad?”

Stiles leans forward, kissing Derek’s lips sweetly. “I’ll see him in the morning.” He opens the passenger door and gets in.

Derek rounds the car, getting into the driver’s side. He puts the key in the ignition and turns the engine over.

He pauses, slumping into his seat with his head hitting the headrest.

“What’s the matter,” Stiles asks, the mood suddenly ambiguous.

“…What are we doing, Stiles? We just hurt a girl’s feelings and ruined her night. We’re skipping out on your dad’s wedding. Just what the hell exactly are we doing right now?”

He knows all this, and in the morning he’ll feel like shit and try his best to make up for it all. But now, right now, he’s got one focus and one focus only: Derek. And how simply sharing space with him, being close after 397 days of not, is enough to leave him thoughtless and uncaring. As tactless as he had accused Derek of being.

He hasn’t missed him. He’s craved him. Craved his hands, his eyes, his smile, and his banter. His smell and his heartbeat.

He can’t hear it the way wolves do, but when he puts his ear to Derek’s chest, listening, falling asleep to the _thump thump, thump thump, thump thump_ of it…

“We’re going home. That’s what we’re doing. For now at least.”

He places his hand over Derek’s, squeezing his thick fingers into his wide palm.

Derek breaks their hands apart to draw Stiles closer, gently by his chin. He kisses him softly, tongue whispering just a hair at his lips.

“Okay,” Derek agrees, voice light and quiet at Stiles’ mouth.

Derek puts the car in drive. Stiles buckles his seatbelt. And the camaro spits up rocks from the driveway as it peels toward the entrance/exit of the Blue Lake Golf Course.

For home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it :D


End file.
